


The One Thing He Can Get

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Spoilers, chewie is a good friend, han gets drunk, han needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 00:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14884173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: Han goes on a bender. Chewbacca is a good pal.Set before the last scene of "Solo: A Star Wars Story."SPOILERS for "Solo: A Star Wars Story"





	The One Thing He Can Get

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: I am only basing this on the one movie. I am not touching or hinting at any other media related to the Star Wars universe.

The thing is . . . the thing is that he goes on a bender.

The thing is, he hasn’t been on a bender since he was sixteen. The thing is, he hasn’t been on a bender since he was sixteen and he was alone in an alley on Corellia sitting a few inches from a steamy pile of trash and under a faulty air vent where putrid, sulfur-smelling air was blowing hard enough to rustle his hair. The thing is, he hasn’t been on a bender since his father . . . well. The thing is that he hasn’t been on a bender in a while.

He goes on a bender.

He’s not sure what else to do.

_“You close to your old man?” Lando had asked._

He drinks – doesn’t know what he drinks, just orders a stiff drink safe for humans and the bartender gives it to him and it makes his eyes water and when he gets to the bottom his fingers are a little numb so he orders another. The bar is dingy, tinted a dull, olive green, and it’s dirty, too. There are at least ten empty glasses sitting on top of a layer of dust on top of the chipped wood bar. The tables are all made of different things, metal and plastic and wood,  like someone cleaned out a bunch of apartments and pulled the furniture into here and just scattered it around. The floor is black and sticky, and the place smells a little like wet and muddy Wookie.

He drinks.

_“You close to your old man?”_

_“You’re complicating things.”_

He drinks more. The room tilts a little and the two-headed bartender uses one face to glare at Han in disapproval while he helps another customer. Chewie slides up to the bar next to him and tries to order a drink. Han translates his drink order to the bartender after two tries, and orders another for himself while he’s at it. Chewie scoots a little closer.

The bar smells like wet Wookie, but the Wookie next to him smells clean, and isn’t looking at Han with disapproval or pity. He’s better than the bartender. Han drinks more. He blinks heavily and looks over at Chewie.

“Beckett liked you,” Han says, and then has to stare at his own drink and blink hard for a second.

Chewie replies in disagreement.

“No, he did. Not sure he respected either of us too much, but he liked you.”

Chewie’s next words are a little complicated for Han’s drunk brain, but he repeats it a little slower this time and Han gets it.

He can’t answer. He throws his head back and downs his drink. Probably shouldn’t have thrown his head back. The room spins. He swallows hard.

_“You did the smart thing for once.”_

Someone throws the door to the bar open and comes in from the street, and it banks a sharp, bright light from the two suns into the bar for a moment. It’s like someone throws a knife between Han’s eyes. He squints and ducks, which puts his head right into Chewie’s arm. He stays for a moment, breathing in the smell of Chewie’s clean fur and blocking out the harsh light. Chewie stills and growls, low and protective.

The door closes and the bar is dark again.

_“Go. I’m right behind you.”_

Han’s feeling a little sick. More alcohol might not help, but what the hell can it hurt right now?

He drinks more.

Chewie mutters at him and Han can’t help but laugh.

“That’s for damn sure, Chewie. Pathetic and sad. Exact-fucking-ly.”

Chewie growls.

“Not what you said but it’s what you meant,” Han sing-songs. Ugh. Now he’s displaying his self-pity to everyone. Well, to Chewie. That’s everyone to Han now.

Chewie doesn’t call him on it, though, just shrugs and finishes his own drink.

_“You close to your old man?”_

Han looks up at Chewie and there’s two of him. It’s funny so Han laughs. “You are the hairiest friend I’ve ever had.”

Chewie ruffles his hair, like that other Wookie did when Han told him he and Chewie were friends. Must be a Wookie thing. It feels good. He blinks. The bar spins. “I’m really drunk, I think.”

Chewie laughs softly for a big guy.

_“Go. I’ll be right behind you.”_

_“You close to your old man?”_

Han blinks and he’s leaning against Chewie. He blinks again and Chewie’s holding him upright and leading them back to the run-down, cheap room they’ve rented for the night. He blinks again and they’re inside and Chewie’s laying Han down gently on the bed. Fucking tucking him in. He may have lost his shoes.

Chewie looks at him and asks a quiet question.

Han swallows. He doesn’t want to throw up. “No. I don’t know. I thought we had a long-term thing with Beckett. I thought Qu’ira was coming with us. I thought . . . I don’t know. . . I didn’t want to kill him.”

Chewie answers.

“Yeah,” Han replies. “I know. But I didn’t want to kill him. He just. . . He just. . . She just.” He can still feel his finger on the trigger. He can feel Beckett’s hand in his as he took his last breath. He can still feel Qu’ira’s gaze as he stepped into the lift and she let it close behind him forever. He can feel the alcohol swirling in his stomach. He can feel Chewie’s hand stroking his hair. He can feel the room, the plans, the hopes spinning away.

_“You close to your old man?”_

_“Go. I’ll be right behind you.”_

He sleeps. When he wakes, the room is bright and Chewie is cleaning his weapon and watching Han from the corner of his eye. When Han groans, Chewie chuckles softly.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Han grumbles as he trips into the bathroom and finally does throw up the nastiness from the bar. He washes his face and brushes his teeth with questionably dingy water and when he comes out, Chewie hands him a cup of strong coffee, like a pal. Han sits heavily on the rumpled bed and runs his hand through his hair. “I got an idea, but I don’t know if you’ll like it,” he says, and sips his drink. It tastes like sunlight.

Chewie raises an eyebrow.

“Lando. We should go find him and get that ship.” He pauses and adds, “It’s a really good ship.”

Chewie’s quiet for a moment, stares at Han with an intensity he hasn’t felt in a while, and then shrugs and nods.

_“You close to your old man?”_

_“Go. I’ll be right behind you.”_

He didn’t want to kill Beckett. He didn’t want Qu’ira to leave. He wanted all of them safe and together and back on that amazing ship, seeing the galaxy. If there’s one thing Han learned early in life, though, was that he doesn’t often get what he wants. This time, though? With Chewie’s help, he’s going to get some of it.

He’s going to get what he can, and what he can get is that ship.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
